Angels Falling Down
by Shiroi Iyasu
Summary: 'Death can be a familiar experience, especially when one has gone through it twice - in the same way, by the same person. Neku knows how it feels to die, and it's giving him a fear of vertigo.' (Josh/Neku, if you squint. A lot.)


LOOK IT'S A TWEWY FIC. A SENSIBLY LONG ONE.

okay okay it's just I don't know implying pairings isn't my thing. Never been good with romance, like, I suck. I _suck_ at romance. So unfortunately, this fic isn't very romantic unless you squint and have amazingly strong slash goggles on. But anyway, enjoy!

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_._

_'It begins and it ends, and it ends and it begins-'_

Joshua in particular loves to pull that line as Neku tries to finish his reading of a classical play for today's homework. 'Tries', meaning, 'keeping himself relatively sane until the prick leaves and god knows when that will be'. He really doesn't know why he's not doing much to stop the sixteen year old, focusing on the lines and pages in his hands than anything else. The Composer just popped out the blue, the first ever since those three-week long games, and it's pretty much a golden opportunity to just barrage him with all his pent up questions and frustrations and worries.

But the proxy guesses, as Joshua suddenly leans over a shoulder, turning the pages without prompt, that even if he does say anything about it, all he'll get is the usual mockery and side-stepped answers.

.

Nightmares are either familiar things or not to any person capable of sleep. Neku knows that terrifying dreams will eventually fade, as experience has taught him an unpleasant time ago, but it doesn't mean he's used to them.

Ever since the Games, nightmares have come and stayed and went before the cycle repeats, leaving him with goosebumps on his skin as he stares wide-eyed at his plain bedroom ceiling, heart beating loudly in his ears alone. He would stay like that until the sunlight reaches through the window, then slowly sit up, hardly feeling any better than the day before and maybe with a troublesome headache pounding weakly in his head. But what the proxy really hates about these nightmares is not the after-effects, annoying as they are.

Neku groans, rubbing his temples with a grimace as he vividly recalls the nightmare - there are many things that haunt him from those three weeks, but none of them can compare against the one dream that he despises the most and thus the most frequent of them all-

_a hall of judgment, perfectly fit for this game of fate - guns in each pair of hands, one raised, the other to be - kill and win, die and fall; save Shibuya, or lose everything - one, two, three…_

The boy shakes his head furiously, dispelling the memory. It doesn't stop him from clenching a hand over his chest, feeling the lingering phantom pain once inflicted there.

.

Musical Theory was a compulsory subject he took during his few years of elementary school - at that time, Neku almost found the thought of music to be a ridiculous subject. Mostly because he saw music as something to be enjoyed, not something to study, though in hindsight, maybe it would have been a good idea if he had retained some knowledge of what he had been taught.

For maybe or maybe not, it wouldn't be so strange to see Joshua's face morph into this unexplainable look when Neku wonders aloud about the faint music he kept hearing since yesterday night.

.

Slowly and shakily, he raises the gun with both hands, lips stretching into an angry scowl. He can feel the rage humming through his veins as he recalls all the horrible things that he has gone through for the past three weeks simply because of this one person's whims - and what best to do about it than the greatest solution offered? Shoot him, save everyone, serve justice for all those lies. In a way, this is not revenge. This is plain retribution, and maybe Joshua knows it too.

But even with this glorious thought, tears begin to prick at the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision as they bubble and flow - and suddenly, he doesn't have the strength to hold the gun up any more, dropping his hands back to his sides and averting his gaze away in an instant. Neku knows this is the wrong choice to make, that this is a great mistake for he's determining the fate of all he knows and has come to love.

And yet, even with obvious comparision, he can't do it. The proxy cannot just _kill _him - cannot do the simple act of pulling the trigger, cannot erase Yoshiya Kiryu and unknowingly usurp the throne of the Composer. It would only be like that time…

_eight, nine, ten - bang!_

-and Neku is awake on his bed, wondering momentarily again - for the umpteenth time - about what if.

.

There are many things he can do after school, more than often involving a visit to WildKat and Neku, Shiki, Beat and occasionally Rhyme pooling in their pocket money to buy the ridiculously over-priced coffee, grumbling a little about why the angel can't just lower the prices to reasonable levels for once before Sanae just laughs at their silly complaints, remarking about how his usually customer-less cafe won't run itself before moving on to making those cups of coffee while they exchange idle chatter about their day.

Today, however, it's a little different. Sanae can't help but raise an eyebrow when Neku enters the cafe, seemingly alone - until a curl of ash-blonde hair appears from behind the boy's figure, and immediately he hears Joshua's merry chime of hello. The pair seat themselves at the counter, and though the angel has his questions, one knowing look from the Composer silences the thought to ask about anything at all, save for one. "So, Phones, what will it be today?"

.

_Life really does flash before your eyes when you die. Or at least, now, Neku thinks it does. Memories of his earliest past rise up in an instance, all going through permanent fast-motion. Happiness, childhood, friendship. And then, tragedy, loss, depression. The days had become colorless at some point, to the extent that the boy was really just dragging his feet around with no energy or patience to repel curiosity. Until, at least, death came from around the corner. Literally._

.

The rooftop is a peaceful place. Once the bells ring for recess, Neku immediately heads up to the roof, taking in a breath of air and having a moment of oblivious relaxation. It's not that school is something tiring to go through - though, with Beat now sitting next to him, it can get a little irritating when the blond keeps getting confused between the Pythagoras theorem and Heron's formula when they've probably learnt them at least three years ago - but it's just that, the boy prefers having this little quiet time all for himself. Just because he went through the Games with a changed mindset doesn't mean he became an instant social bee.

Neku sits as close as he can to the edge of the roof, his back pressed against the iron railings that stop anyone from actually falling down - unless they were sitting on it and lost balance, or crossed to the other side and again lost balance and fell, both which are equally scary thoughts, to die _again_ - and stares up at the sky. It's not the most fun of things to do, but it clears his mind, and that's what he likes to do up here, watching the clouds and feeling the light breezes- and not arms hugging him from behind.

"Good morning, Neku~" Joshua quietly giggles into an ear, which further does not help the proxy's surprise of being - of all things - hugged by a person who literally appeared from nowhere. Neku cranes his neck to look behind, seeing the sixteen year old standing on the other side of railings, and thus having to bend down a little to actually wrap his arms around his neck. It helps probably that the railings are short, but from his view, somehow, it makes the Composer seem taller than he really is.

"Joshua!" the fifteen year old exclaims. Instinctively, he reaches up to tug the pale arms off. "What the hell are you doing here - now?"

"Can I not be here?" He laughs a little. "This is my city, after all."

"But why _here_?" Neku stresses the word. Joshua simply frees his dear proxy from his embrace - much to his great relief - and moves to sit up on the railings, legs swinging high and barely grazing the edge of the roof.

"Because you looked so_ terribly_ lonely here, my dear~"

And thus starts the semi-daily visits up on the school rooftop.

.

For a dream, things can be and feel so real, as if it's happening all over again. The air is knocked out of him and sound locked in his throat - the world spins madly as his feet slip off the ground. In the midst of booming pain and hazy memories of familiar angels and feathers, something whispers,_ again, again, he's falling again, to the lethal shot of a bullet through his heart. _

.

Another visit at the rooftop. For once, it's just absolute silence and cloud-watching, though Neku isn't paying as much attention as Joshua is to the sky today. Thoughts skip and sing, accompanied with the constant paranoia that the Composer is possibly listening in to these noisy whispers in his head, but the boy tries to not think about that too much. Instead, Neku attempts to voice his other thoughts - his worries for the city, his frustrations at the other's see-through ignorance, and his questions. What, how, when - _why_. "Why did you save Shibuya? I lost."

Somewhere in the back of his head, Neku realises that this is the first real question he has asked ever since the Games. Joshua tilts his head, resembling curiosity at first, though the blatant amusement on his face says otherwise. Violetine interest is apparent as he gestures his hand in some puzzlement. "That is most certainly true. You did lose, fair and square - so, for what reason did I change my mind? That is… Well, it's a very good question, Neku. Bravo."

"…You mean," the fifteen year old stares, surprised as realisation quietly dawns. "You don't know why?"

Joshua doesn't answer that question, but it's enough of an answer on its own.

.

He falls down and he falls awake, wondering if he's still dreaming - still have illusions and delusions of the subconscious kind - when he hears hushed comfort and someone both cold and warm cradling him under the blankets, murmuring all these soothing things till he falls asleep to a happier dream.

.

As expected, the sixteen year old avoids answering his questions properly. Most of the time, he will brush it off in some indirect manner and move on to a less related topic, and Neku just has to settle with not learning nor understanding anything until the next day when he can try again. Other times, when his friend does feel like answering, they are vague, meant to test his proxy's temper and tolerance. Even more rarely are the times when his answers are direct and perfectly to the point, which is startling because Joshua is clearly more a lover of riddles and secretive glances than simple words.

But it seems, as time passed, there are things Joshua will never answer too willingly, and those are questions related to the past - to the times before the current Games, before his current days as Composer. If the boy has to ask something personal, he ensures it's a harmless one. He can't ask anything more.

And yet…

"How did you die?"

Neku had just been pondering on the question, too hesitant to ask - and for good reason. After all, who just _asks_ someone about how they died? There may not be a rule book on what and what not to say for people who had died and then been brought back to life, but sensibility is still there to assure right and wrong, and the boy had felt it too much to ask. Nevertheless, the words had slipped out of their own accord, and now it's just too late to swallow back those words.

The sixteen year old's expression is unreadable and scarily blank as he looks away, head craned upwards a little, with the winds blowing a little more strongly now and making his ash-blonde tresses fly. His amethyst eyes are hidden in a half-lidded gaze, staring at something beyond the blue of the skies. A lengthy amount of silence has ensured itself, during which the proxy wonders momentarily if his Composer will not say a word and simply leave - but he does none of those things.

"…by falling," Joshua murmurs eventually, and Neku leaves it at that.

.

* * *

'Falling' meaning, I suppose, jumped off the 104 building as a suicide attempt. Perhaps. AND WOW I REALLY SUCKED AT THE ROMANCE DIDN'T I. I MEAN, DID ANYONE EVEN SEE ANY SLASH HERE?!

~Shiroi


End file.
